Never Surrender
by Enchantable
Summary: Short Nero/Kyrie at the end of DMC 4. The kiss could wait but not for long...


Nero lowered his gun with a smirk and looked at the carcass of the demons who were disintegrating. The crowd that had somehow gathered burst into joyous life and Nero felt disgust flood through him. These were the people who had been more than happy to throw him aside because of his arm or his heritage or any other reason they could come up with. Today he was there hero but by tomorrow he could be their enemy. Things changed fast, he knew that better now than he had before. All he wanted to do was go somewhere without demons, without the noise and just figure out what the hell had happened. The weariness that spread through him seemed to come from his heart, not his body. He pushed his way through the crowd, his eyes searching for Kyrie.

He saw her easing her way out of the crowd and followed as best he could. She wasn't easing her way out of the crowd but heading into the destroyed church. Shaking off his confusion he followed her into the crumpling building. She picked her way through the mess overturned pews and destroyed icons, looking around the temple with saddened eyes. He felt guilt flood through him. The destruction of the church had been largely due to Dante and his battle, long before the whole demon-thing had come into the picture. She walked over to the stage and looked around. It was odd to think that she had been up her singing such a short time ago. With Credo and Nero watching her.

Nero, the thought brought a strange emotion to her. She had always loved him, first as a member of their family and then as something inexplicably more. They had been young when she had first met him and she had always been fascinated by his silver hair. How could someone so young have hair the same color as Sanctus? He had hid his arm behind his back when they had met. Even after they had known each other for a long time he had been worried about the arm and how people thought of him with it. She found it almost funny that arm that he hated so much had been the very thing that saved them all in the end.

When Agnus took her hostage and used Nero's feelings for her as a taunt she had been stunned. She knew she had liked him, that her feelings were starting to change. That when she looked out to the crowd her eyes did not seek Credo's for comfort but Nero's. Even if he listened to his music during sermons and felt resentment towards the Order. Even if he and Credo had been arguing more and more and the subject of their argument had to do more with Nero being emotionally immature than with things of actual consequence. Credo, Kyrie put a hand to her burning heart. Credo was dead. Her brother would never get married or grow old or do any of the thing she knew he wanted to. In the end she hoped he had found some kind of peace.

And now what? The city was destroyed and Nero was their 'savior' but there were so many unanswered questions. Dante had given him the sword wielded by his brother. The two of them looked so much alike and Nero obviously had the blood of Sparta in his veins. What did it mean for the city, what did it mean for them? She wrapped her hand around the pendant on her chest and closed her eyes, telling herself that she would not cry. Much to her shame she felt a tear slip down her cheek.

A hand brushed it away. Her eyes snapped open to be met with a pair of eyes the color of quicksilver. She looked into Nero's worried eyes with her own, reaching up and covering the hand on her cheek with her own. She closed the distance between their bodies ad wrapped her arms around his frame. He pulled her against him, his arms crushing her to his chest. His coat fell around her, blocking the world from her view. The first time he had held her she hadn't notice how right it felt to be in his arms. But now, now she realized she must have been blind not to see it before. After what seemed like forever she pulled back slightly and looked up at him.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"I am now," she said.

Leaning up on her toes she gently pressed her lips to his. His eyes widened in surprise at her action before she felt his lips curve into a smile against her lips as both their eyes slowly closed. His lips were soft and gentle on hers. The image of him slaying demons flashed in her eyes and she felt mildly surprised at how he could be so gentle. Mentally she scolded herself, it was Nero, of course he was gentle. They broke the kiss and she leaned his forehead against hers, looking into his eyes.

Gently his demonic hand came up and cupped her cheek, puhing her hair back. She leaned her cheek into the palm and brought her own hand to cover it, looking at him through the dim glow it brought. She could feel his body tremble with some combination of relief and exhaustion and knew she was in a little better state. But nothing seemed to matter, nothing but the fact that he was there and she was there and they were both, somehow, alive. The exhaustion became apparent in his eyes and he sagged. She managed to brace herself in time and wrap her arms around him, keeping them both upright.

"Sorry," he said, his voice hoarse.

"Nero," she scolded, "you just saved the world, its okay to be tired," she ran her hand through his hair, "come on, lets see if there's a temple room that wasn't destroyed huh?"

"Yeah," he chuckled, "wouldn't want the cowering masses to think I'm weak or anything."

"I see you haven't that biting tongue," she said slipping his right arm over her shoulder and taking some of his weight on her slight form. He grinned at her and she couldn't help but return the smile, "come on."

"Demons might--" he began to protest looking over his shoulder before looking down at her, something akin to fear at her reaction in his eyes. She saw his eyes drift over to his demonic hand draped over her shoulder and she reached up and laced their fingers together, "Kyrie--"

"If they do," she said, "then there's no-one I trust more to send them to hell where they belong," she looked up at him and felt color creep into her cheeks but pressed on, "you on the other hand, are staying right here," she smiled, "with me."

"Kyrie," he spoke her name, his eyes widening at her words.

"Its like you said. Sparta had a heart, a heart that could love another," she said, "just like you and I do."

For once he didn't have a retort. He did the only thing that he could think of and pulled her against him, kissing her again. She wrapped her arms around him and kissed him back. Some day, when they were older and wiser, when the city had been rebuilt and questions had been answered, he would tell her that his human heart belonged to her. But for the moment words seemed to hold less importance. All that mattered was that she was alive in his arms and he was kissing her like he had dreamed about doing for, hell, since he had figured out what girls were. Silently he added Kyrie to his list of things to thank God profusely for.

"We are never going to make it to the room this way," she said when they broke apart.

But they did. Nero never thought he would be happy to see the narrow cots that the Order used in the spare rooms. They had said something about pain and making people stronger but Nero had always preferred an actual bed. He doubted there was a chance in hell of him making it there now. Kyrie helped him sit on the bed before sitting down next to him and leaning her head against his shoulder. He felt wetness seep into his shoulder and looked at her. She swiped at her cheeks but the tears just kept coming.

"Credo," she whispered hanging her head.

She had almost cried but now it seemed that like the exhaustion had caught up with Nero it caught up with her too. She buried her face in her hands, her body shaking with the exhausting as she cried for her brother, for the members of the Order who had died. He wrapped his arm around her, pulling her securely against him. Her hands left her face to grasp his jacket as she cried for their lost brother. Gently he guided them into a lying position and pulled her fully against him, using his coat as a blanket for the two of them. Like the city they lived in they were broken and bruised but they were alive and they would rebuild.


End file.
